


call it a cosmic mixup

by Wildehack (Tyleet)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyleet/pseuds/Wildehack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very tiny story about Soulmarks Gone Awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	call it a cosmic mixup

**Author's Note:**

> Same principle as 'consequences.' Thesis, panic, procrastination, the shock of reading a thing I wrote without any actual memory of having written it. And so here it is! Preserved for the ages. 
> 
> Apparently singelisilverslippers posted this: "Hey remember your desire for dark soulmates AUs a couple months ago? Here's two for you: Thor's name is written on Jane's wrist, but Asgardians don't have names on their wrists OR Thor's name is on Jane's wrist and Jane's name is on Thor's wrist, but there is no way to give Jane immortality, and so Thor loves her, knowing that after her hundred years of human life he will be without a soulmate for the rest of eternity. (Feel free to throw Darcy and/or Loki and/or Sif in there for added angst.)

Darcy’s wrist says _Jane Foster_ in a no-nonsense typewriter font, clear and black as if she’d tattooed it there. It's not a common name, exactly--there was a girl in her middle school whose name was rumored to be John Smith, which was just, like. Deeply unfortunate. But it's not really uncommon either.   
  
So when Darcy sees the name pop up in an email about J-term internships, well. She applies, obviously. And she tries to talk herself out of her nerves the whole flight from Virginia to Albuquerque, reminding herself that if it’s her Jane then Jane will be just as psyched to see her, and if it’s not her Jane, well, she’ll know to cross one Jane Foster off her list. It’s a common first name and a common last name. There are, like, a hundred Jane Fosters in the UK.   
  
And then Darcy gets there and Jane doesn’t look at her with anything like recognition, and Darcy decides to write it off. First Jane Foster down, probably many more to go. But as the weeks wear on—she starts feeling like. Like maybe that was wrong. Because she _feels_ like the right Jane Foster. Like, she’s a genius, and she’s got long perfect eyelashes, and she does amazingly stupid things like forgetting to eat and forgetting to sleep and actually she’s kind of like Robin Williams in Flubber except she’s, like, way hotter, way funnier, wears flannel instead of tweed, is a way worse driver, and also Darcy never wanted to tie Robin Williams to a chair and feed him soup, and she never obsessed about touching the soft skin behind Robin Williams’s shell-like ear, and she never wanted to shove Robin Williams into bed and force him into taking a break and maybe kissing Darcy all over so maybe the metaphor doesn’t work.   
  
Darcy keeps thinking she’s got to say something. It’s not really fair to either of them to keep not saying anything, just because Jane doesn’t act like she’s in love with Darcy at all, doesn’t act like she spent all of her teenagehood staring yearningly at the vulnerable skin of her wrist and whispering Darcy’s name out loud.   
  
But then Jane and Darcy hit an alien with the car and things kind of spiral out of control for a while. Jane kisses Thor like she’s never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in her life, and Darcy fingers her leather wristband, fights off the hot curl of longing. Not my Jane Foster, she tells herself, even though her chest is aching and her throat is tight, like her body is trying physically to tell her that this is it, this girl, this one.   
  
Later, after Thor has been gone for days and it doesn’t look like he’s coming back, they get very, very drunk. Erik almost gets into a bar fight over a dart board, and Darcy starts to get weepy, which is a thing that can happen sometimes when she drinks tequila. “I thought these were supposed to make you happy,” she says, waving her banded wrist in the air. “I’m not. I just. I demand a recount.” 

Jane’s nodding in reply, emphatic and teary herself, and maybe she’s had more to drink than Darcy thought, because she starts tugging at her own wrist-band, actually _tugging it down_ _where anyone could see_. Darcy’s too good a friend to let that happen in public, so she grabs Jane by the offending wrist, fingers curling over whatever name is there, and drags Jane into the bar’s dank little bathroom.   
  
“How much have you _had_ ,” Darcy tries to ask, but Jane’s actually crying now, pushing the wristband the rest of the way up.   
  
It’s not English. It’s a dark red, and curving, and to be honest it looks like something out of Lord of the Rings, and Darcy doesn’t need to be told what it says.   
  
"I didn’t tell him,” Jane is saying miserably between sobs, and Darcy reminds herself distantly never to let Jane have absinthe again. “I asked—Asgardians don’t have soulmarks, they don’t—I went and had it translated when I was eighteen, and, and what do you do when you’ve got Ancient Norse stamped on your wrist, I always thought it meant he’d be a linguistics professor or something, but no, he’s an _alien_ , and now he’s _gone_ and I don’t know how to get him back, and _I didn’t tell him_.”   
  
"Okay,” Darcy says, and her voice comes out perfect steady, just as if her heart isn’t breaking. “Okay, come on, stop crying. You’re gonna get him back. You just need to build a Bifrost thing, right?” Jane looks up at her with red eyes, and Darcy very carefully pats her on the shoulder. “Which you can so do. You’re amazing,” and, okay, voice caught a little bit in her throat there, but Jane probably won’t notice. Fuck, _fuck_ , cosmic mixups are the worst. “Asgard’s not gonna know what hit ‘em.” 

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr version of this had a tag that read "and then Darcy goes to the UK after a Jane Foster ANYWAY", so apparently 2013 me really wanted to break my own heart.


End file.
